Meat Seven

Night had fallen sending the sky into a blackness covered with a splay of glimmering white stars. Behind them loomed the great mountain of the Heligrand, a dark shadow staring down at them daring them to try and probe its depth and gain its inner most secrets. Here though, in front of the campfire, things seemed a bit warmer.

Eragon could see Roran tending to his meat.

Stiff on the stick, he turned and twisted it, touching it to make sure it was well done. Roran did love his meat. The noises he made while eating it was pure pleasure. And then he savored the final juices licking them from his fingers. Sucking them to make sure he got every last gooey bit off.

Alone, by himself, though, Eragon twisted his staff absently -nervously- as he watched. It looked so good. He could remember the feel the meat deep in his throat, taking it down, the juices over flowing; leaking out of his mouth and dribbling down his chin. The taste of it, so good, so warm.

Oh! How he wished he could share Roran's meat!

As if noticing his studious gaze, Roran stood up and held his meat stick; pointing it at Eragon.

Eragon waved his hand. His voice horse, "I can't Roran, I swore off it. It's not good to eat meat." He didn't sound convincing to himself and to Roran.

The meat stick waved closer so that he could smell it! "I know you want it Eragon, we always shared our meat back home. It was so good on those cold winter nights as we huddled together. Take it! I want to share with you!"

Eragon shook his head, turning away from the meat trying to quell his longing for it.

If you don't wish to have Roran's meat, then I shall," Saphira interjected. Her great head reached for the meat and sucked it off so quickly Roran only had time for a loud gasp of surprise.

If possible, she had a smirk on her face. "You have good meat, Roran Stronghammer. I shall
wish to enjoy more of it later.